


Firelight

by RedRowan



Series: Stars and Horns [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Cold Weather, F/M, Female Matt Murdock, Fluff and Smut, Rule 63, girl!Matt Murdock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8742253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRowan/pseuds/RedRowan
Summary: Steve had tried to think of all the problems that might arise when Mattie decided to leave New York to be a fugitive with him.  He hadn't thought that cold Swedish winters would be one of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A little winter fluff and smut for all of you! Happy holidays, and stay warm, everyone!

When Mattie had decided to leave New York with him, Steve had tried to foresee any potential problems. Hiding her disability is a big one, since people tend to notice the pretty blind woman. Teaching her the undercover skills that would help her blend in, disappear. Sharing a living space with three other people. Finding ways to discreetly have sex without disturbing Sam and Nat.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the _weather_ being a problem, but it turns out that Mattie, a life-long New Yorker, is having trouble adapting to the more…exotic climates.

Not that Mattie is complaining. She just does her Catholic suffering-in-silence thing, and makes Steve feel guilty about where their missions take them.

Sweden is definitely the hardest on her thus far. An unusually cold December in Västerås, and a safe house that’s old, draughty, and without central heating, has led Mattie to bundle up in so many layers that Steve is fairly certain she’s wearing every article of clothing she’s carrying with her. Nat gave her a pair of woollen fingerless gloves that she wears constantly, and her hands are wrapped around a mug of something hot whenever possible. She spends most of her time either training in the tiny makeshift gym they’ve set up, or close to the big fireplace in the main room. Steve is careful to make sure they have plenty of firewood.

It’s definitely not the romantic, globetrotting adventuring Steve had envisioned, fighting evil and making love across the world. 

Well, he can attempt making love.

He climbs into bed next to the tightly-curled ball that’s his girlfriend. Mattie has taken to wearing her hoodie and socks to bed. Steve can imagine her as some sort of small furry animal, and has the thought that if she had a fluffy tail, she’d have it draped across her nose. He presses himself against her back and kisses her shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, and is rewarded with her face turned to him, and a lazy smile.

“Hey, you,” she says. He leans over and kisses her lips, and she turns, molding herself to his side and tucking her hands between them. He slides his hand between her hoodie and her sweatpants, feeling her skin, and she smiles contentedly. He tries to unzip the hoodie, but she sighs and says, “No, I’m not taking my clothes off.”

He groans and flops back onto his pillow.

“Is there _anything_ we can do right now?” he asks the ceiling.

He gets a non-committal sound out of her, but she leans over him, her hand drifting over his crotch. She grins and kisses him, her hand working him through his pyjamas, then her hand slips inside his pants.

Her _ice-cold_ hand.

The sound he makes is…undignified.

He really, really hopes that Sam and Nat are asleep. Or at the other end of the house. Or have headphones in.

Mattie is hardly sympathetic, since she’s laughing with her face pressed against his shoulder.

“Your hands are freezing!” he gasps.

She just keeps laughing. “Yeah! Yeah, they are.”

“Argh!” he groans. He takes her hands between his and chafes them a little before blowing on them. “How do you even feel anything?”

“It’s…not great,” she admits, which he knows means that it’s awful for her. He pulls her tight against him, trying to share his warmth, and kisses her fingertips. She lets them linger on his lips before she kisses him and murmurs, “C’mere.”

He rolls on top of her, feeling her body through her clothes. She slips her hands under his shirt, ten cold little points on his skin, but makes no attempt to pull it off. It looks like they’re keeping their clothes on. He can work with that.

He pushes his hand between her legs, finding the heat at her core. He loves the way she responds to his touch, the sounds she makes, but it’s not enough, and when she comes, he’s hard and aching to be inside her. She shifts, grinding her hips up against his, and grins when he groans.

“Mm, guess I should take care of that,” she says.

“You don’t have to. You know, not if you don’t want to.”

“It’s only polite…” She’s still grinning as she rolls him onto his back. She spares him her cold hands, just pulling down his pyjamas and then taking him in her mouth. Somewhere in the pleasure of it, he remembers the first time she’d done this for him (the first time anyone had done this for him), how much he’d been in awe of her then. Only four years ago, but they seem so much younger, so much more innocent, looking back.

But some things don’t change, either, he thinks, as he runs his fingers through her short red hair and tells her he loves her.

She sleeps curled up like an armadillo, with Steve wrapped around her back, trying to keep her warm.

They get word that there is a contact they should meet up north, in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. It’s unfortunately at the same time that the Swedish Hydra agent they’ve been tracking in Västerås finally shows her face, so Steve sends Sam and Nat up north while he and Mattie tail the agent. Mattie’s hearing means they don’t even have to bother with bugs or directional mics - she can just sit on a rooftop or in a coffee shop in the same building, and hear everything. Mattie reports that the agent is coordinating something to do with archaeology at Anundshög.

“It sounds like they’re looking for Asgardian artifacts,” she says. There’s been an uptick in interest in Norse archaeology since Thor showed up in New Mexico five years ago.

“Anundshög’s as good a place to look as any,” says Steve. It’s the largest Norse burial mound in Sweden.

“Kind of wish we could call Thor in,” Mattie says, sipping her coffee. “He might know if anything’s there.”

“Did they say if they had any evidence?”

Mattie shakes her head. “And before you ask, no, they didn’t say if they thought an Infinity Stone was down there.”

She knows that the thought of the Infinity Stones is keeping Steve up at night.

The Hydra mission to Anundshög turns out to be a bust; whatever theory they had about the site, it doesn’t work. Mattie giggles from inside her fur-lined hood as she reports to Steve that the Hydra agents have been trying to perform incantations at some of the runestones to no avail.

“OK, maybe we should just go break this up and save them the embarrassment,” Steve says.

The Hydra agents have herded the legitimate archaeologists and historians into one of the excavation team’s tents while their experts are in another with the artifacts. Mattie quietly slips into the artifact tent, and Steve hears the sounds of violence being meted out, but no gunshots. He grabs anyone leaving the hostages’ tent, waiting for Mattie to emerge, and when she does, he charges in. A few of the Hydra agents try to grab hostages, but Mattie slips through a slit cut in the side and catches them from behind.

They help the archaeologists tie up the Hydra agents, and tell them to call the police. Then it’s a shrug at a job well done and a drive back to Västerås.

Steve’s phone rings when they’re just inside the outskirts of the city. He swipes at the screen to take the call and hands the phone to Mattie.

“Hey, it’s Mattie,” she says. “Yeah, just caught a couple of Hydra agents. Nothing big. You?” There’s a pause as she listens. “Oh that’s good…Oh…You’re going to be OK?…Yeah, sure, I’ll tell him…I don’t know…” She laughs. “So, you’re snowed in and tracking Nazis, I’m pretty sure that’s the start of _Girl With the Dragon Tattoo_ …Look, I’m just saying, somebody invites you down into their wine cellar, don’t do it.” She pauses, then laughs again. “Yeah, you too. Bye, Sam.”

She hands the phone back to Steve, who tucks it into his pocket.

“Everything OK?” he says.

“Sam and Nat’s contact thinks there’s a Hydra facility just outside of town. But the town just got a huge snowfall, so they’re snowed in for the night. They’re going to check it out tomorrow after they get the roads cleared. Going to add about a day, maybe two.”

“That’s fine.”

They pick up dinner on the drive back to the safe house, and eat in companionable quiet. Then Mattie makes tea, and sits in front of the fire with her mug clutched between her hands while Steve reads her the headlines that Nat has sent to her computer. It’s been a relatively quiet day, and there isn’t much to report.

He pours her another cup of tea and brings it to her, sitting on the floor behind her and letting her lean against him.

“Do you…want to listen to something?” he offers. “Or I could read you something.”

She chuckles into her tea. “What did people do before the internet?”

“Well, back in my day…” he says, and she laughs, “if you could afford one, you listened to the radio.”

“And if you couldn’t?”

“You had to talk to each other.”

She mock-shivers. “Ugh, how did the human race survive?”

“Sheer desperation.” He leans down to kiss the top of her head. “You still cold?”

“Not right now,” she says.

“We’ll go somewhere warm, after this,” he says. “Spain, or Italy, or Greece? Somewhere nice for our anniversary.” He likes thinking of New Year’s like that, marking a full year with Mattie.

“I’d like that,” she says.

The fire needs another log, so Steve crawls away to add one. Mattie puts her empty mug down on the floor next to her, and sits with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Steve takes her hand and strokes her bare fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know it was going to be this bad.”

She chuckles ironically. “Me neither.” She shakes her head. “It’s fine, I’ll just learn to live with it.” She pulls her hand out of his and takes off her hoodie. She still has a sweater on underneath.

“No, it’s just - I know what it’s like, feeling like you could never get warm.”

“Are you going all Old Man Steve on me again?” she says, leaning back, basking in the warmth of the fire.

“When I was your age, we had respect for our elders,” he deadpans.

“When you were my age, you were already frozen in the Arctic.” She realizes what she just said. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Never did like the cold, after that.”

She reaches out and he takes her hand, warm now in its fingerless glove.

“Do you remember any of it?” she says.

He shrugs. “I’m not sure. Not sure if I actually remember things, or if I’m just imagining it.” He doesn’t tell her what it felt like, to feel his entire body succumbing to the ice. Or the memory he thinks he has, of the agony of being brought back to life. He turns her hand over, tugs the glove off so he can stroke her palm and make her smile. “When it’s cold out, sometimes I wake up and think I’m back in the ice,” he admits. “But…you’re there. You remind me where I am.” He brings her hand up to his lips and kisses her palm, letting her stroke his cheek.

She takes her hand away and fumbles with her other glove, pulling it off. “Let’s stay here tonight,” she says. “It’s warmer out here with the fire, and it’s just us.”

He smiles, and kisses her temple. “Yeah, let’s do that. Give me a sec.”

He goes to the bedroom and slips a few condoms into his pocket, then scoops the bedding and pillows off the bed and carries them into the living room. He drops them in a pile next to her, and starts pulling cushions off the couch and chairs.

“What are you doing?” she says.

“Building a nest,” he says. _Obviously._

She blinks twice. 

“OK,” she says, and helps him arrange the cushions in front of the fire, draping the silk sheets over them, until they’re snuggled under the blanket, hands clasped together. He kisses her fingertips.

“It’s not the _cold_ itself,” she says. “It’s…it wrecks my sense of touch. My skin goes numb, and then when I get warmed up, all the blood rushes to the surface, and I can’t tell what temperature it is, and nothing feels right.”

He nuzzles at her ear, and runs the tip of his tongue lightly around the edge. He feels her shudder a little against him.

“How does that feel?” he whispers, and she laughs, full-body, throwing her head back.

“Oh, my God, you were just _waiting_ for an opening, weren’t you?” she says.

“Hey, that was a _perfect_ setup,” he says, holding her against him with both arms as she squirms.

“That was so cheesy!” she laughs, her hands bunching up the front of his shirt. She’s smiling so broadly it makes his heart hurt a little, and he kisses her, pushing his leg between hers and pulling one of hers up over his hip. He runs his hand up over her hip and feels the soft skin where her jeans and her sweater meet. Further up, under her sweater, he finds the swell of her breast, feels the shape of her nipple through her bra.

“Knew it,” she whispers. “You were just trying to get my clothes off.”

“Yeah…” He kisses her again, then under her jaw. “Is it working?”

She answers by lifting her arms, letting him tug her sweater and her t-shirt up, then reach behind her to unclasp her bra. He takes a moment to take one nipple in his mouth, teasing her with his tongue, before she’s pulling him up to unbutton his shirt. She makes quick work of it, then he pushes her back down so he can give her breasts his full attention.

Eventually, she takes his hand off her breast and pushes it between her legs with a throaty “please.” He obliges, pulling her jeans and underwear off, and she sits up to push his pants down, too. Then they’re both naked, sitting up, his fingers stroking inside her while she grips his cock and pumps slowly. He stares at her, pale skin warmed in copper and honey tones by the firelight, then she shifts closer, his fingers slipping deeper inside her. She tightens her grip on him, and he gets the message.

“OK?” he says.

“Yeah.”

He pulls his fingers out, and she releases him so he can fumble in his pants pocket for the condoms. He rolls one on, and she sits up on her knees in front of him, twining her arms around his neck and kissing him. He sits back, letting her straddle him, and guides himself inside her. She starts slowly, grinding against him, and he runs his fingers down her spine before clasping her with both hands on her ass. She grips his shoulders and starts to ride him in earnest, panting, throwing her head back, reminding Steve of all the words that were used to describe so-called “bad” women in his youth.

Wanton. Shameless. Sinful.

They seem like the highest form of praise, passionate words of love, looking up at Mattie’s naked body with his cock inside her. Anyone who thinks those words are insults can, as she would say, go fuck themselves.

She cries out to the ceiling when she comes, and he feels her whole body shake with the force of it. She catches her breath, and he strokes her cheek, tracing the shape of her smile with his fingertip. Then he wraps his arms around her, holding her tight against him, and rolls her onto her back, pushing her legs up onto his shoulders and thrusting deep inside her. She lets her arms fall wide, gripping the loose sheet under them, and throws her head back. Her moans get louder and louder, and he judges that he’s getting close.

“Mattie,” he gasps out. “Touch yourself for me?”

She slides her hand between her legs, stroking her clit, and they come together in a moment of heat and skin and pure beauty.

He disentangles himself to throw away the condom, and puts another log on the fire before climbing under the blanket with her. She’s pulled up the sheet, too, so all he feels is smooth silk and even softer skin. He spoons her, letting her stretch out in front of the fire, his body a barrier against cold draughts, and she falls asleep, golden firelight playing across her face.

When he wakes up in the cold pre-dawn, for a moment, he thinks of the ice. But she’s there, her skin against his, and the warmth of her seeping into him to his heart.


End file.
